My Pen Goes Dry
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No disillusion any more
No confusion in store
With strong resolve
I am out to solve
Not as poem writer
Not as good charmer
But as their brother
Who is willing patiently to hear?
I shall not resort to complete illusion
That paints silver light of moon
To provide coolness to human mind
But where is peace to find?
I must pick up small child
Grant him vision so kind
Let him dream and see open world
Angel stories of different nature to be told
Why we all speak of pain?
Try always to remain
In touch and do nothing
That is funny and amusing
Poems are read on different lines
Real pain and agony is pushed to sidelines
We speak nothing about hunger
Where millions of soul expresses anger
My pen goes dry while writing
Thoughts remain static with infighting
Are we doing really worthwhile service?
I ponder over but fail to give any promise
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